


Bizarre Circus

by Dark Stars (ivorybyrd)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Freakshow, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Character changes, Fantasy, M/M, Multi, OT3, Romance, Unwilling Ownership, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9905864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorybyrd/pseuds/Dark%20Stars
Summary: Three short stories centered around a cursed stage show. The One Eyed Clown and the Fortune Teller. The Strongest. The Shape Shifter's Declaration.





	1. The One Eyed Clown and the Fortune Teller - Miasma

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I've been playing with this idea since last year especially when With Claws got started. I'm going back to my roots as a horror/dark romance writer and putting together this lovely AU.

Trowa didn't know when to stop staring, his eye had been watching the cage at a distance. The stranger inside had caught so much of his attention that he’d stood there for the last forty-five minutes. He knew if he walked away something would happen, the stranger would break free or disappear. 

Or was it just that he was intrigued that much by the other that he remained there beyond his own will. Trowa didn't know, but his eye dared not move from the spot. Never did he blink for more than a single second or look from the gilded cage. Scripture had been burned into the wood, painted into the bars and carved along the wheels that lifted it from the ground. This is how they brought it in. A captive animal in human skin, with a human face and a human body.

This stranger was not human, no human needed holy scripture, sigils or iron locks specially blessed in order to keep them in. Wood wasn’t broken easily by many people, human or not. This person dared not stick his hands between the bars that he probably could pick the key off the master and free himself. He made no small movement the entire time he was locked away. 

When they had gathered earlier to look upon the creature, Catherine gasped and he could see the fear in his sister despite her lack of physical sight. 

He only saw a young man, probably not much older than he sitting in white garments. He wore shackles but seemed unfazed by their presence as he started out at them all. His head cocking to one side then the other. His nearly glowing blue green eyes shaded only a bit by strands of golden hair. 

“He’s our new fortune teller.” 

The master was replacing Dorothy, but the self-proclaimed witch scoffed at the male that was replacing her. Dorothy had no say in the matter, she had stayed her time, and paid her dues. She was free to go and she had already burned her contract.

She had warned that this ‘imp’ was malevolent and would kill them all before hitting the road.

To which the man inside the cage gave them a nearly angelic smile in response. They laughed, believing the cart was just for show. They trusted that this boy was just good at his trade, or had empath blood. 

No one dared unlock the cage. 

Trowa blinked and without notice he had been barely ten feet away from the door. His body much closer than it had before. He knew he had not moved, or at least remembered the action that very obviously befell him. He stood barely an arm's length away from the bars.

The stranger was looking at him, soft turquoise eyes with blonde lashes, his pale skin contrasting the dark of the night like he had been a star fallen from the sky. “It's impolite to stare, I’m sorry.” 

Trowa jumped, it had not spoken earlier, and hearing the bell like softness of the stranger’s voice made the hairs stand on end. It was enticing, but frightening. He said nothing in return. 

His eyes fluttered, his body rocking forward he crawled over the length of the cage on his hands, feet and knees. His body moved effortlessly towards Trowa, but he stopped right at the bars. “Silent? Are you as well deaf?” 

Trowa shook his head. “No.” His voice came out in a quake, he was apprehensive to talk to this creature that crouched at the edge of the cage. It’s voice echoed through his brain, and he was sure he’d never forget the sound. 

His head cocked to the side. “I want to see your face.” His eyelashes fluttered, a drowsy smile as he reached towards the bars between them. "Just come closer?"

Trowa shook his head, clearing the cloudy feeling that seemed to creep through his head. “I’m going.” He rounded the cage to go to bed. 

The stranger crawled frantically to follow him along the edge of the cage. “Please, let me see your future.” 

Trowa stopped, “Why?”

“I need to see yours,” he said, his tone grave.

Trowa took a step forward and he heard a sudden sound of hiss and whimper that stopped him from moving. He turned to see the stranger holding his hand, burned and nearly mangled. He charged back and apprehensively put his hands on the bars. But they were just as cold as the night’s air. “What happened?” The last thing he wanted was this thing blaming him for its injury.

The blonde stranger had slinked away into the darkness, holding out the hand that had been injured. “It will pass.”

“You are malevolent.” 

“I just want to touch you.” The blue eyes filled with a haze of tears. 

“No," Trowa snapped, his grip tightened on the bars. The cage shook under his strength.

The stranger looked down, “I will do something in return, I will give you ownership of me.”

“I can't own you, you belong to the master.” Trowa turned his face away, this was tiresome. to talk to an imp who had been so desperate to taint him. His sister's warning was correct, this thing was just another problem.

“He only owns the cage that keeps me inside, you will own me, my body and my name.” He uncovered his hand and held it out into the moonlight. Healed and immaculate, and barely a glimmer of sweat was seen on the stranger’s face. 

Trowa shook his head. “I don’t need to know my future.”

“But I want to know it,” the creature insisted. “I give you ownership and you do not want me?” His voice had softened more, coming out in soft breaths as he came closer to Trowa again. His fingers touching his knuckles, a soft moan slipping past his pink lips. 

Trowa snatched his hands away. “No.” With added determination he turned his body around and stormed away. 

"You will die soon." He heard the voice, and it struck him like a dozen swords through the back.


	2. Freaks like We

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 - The imp's reveal has left Trowa shaken, and Trowa reasons he needs to avoid an untimely death as much as possible. 
> 
> Even if it means damnation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: A mysterious imp has been brought in to read fortunes. A young man's curiosity reveals a unpleasant future.

“Sister,” Trowa said. He sat quietly at her side, reflecting inwardly about the the words he heard. He felt numb at his edges. His fingers tingled and his stomach ached. This what panic must feel like, real end of the world panic. Unlike falling backwards in a chair, or feeling a blade run over your skin to find it unmarred. 

Catherine sat in her bed. She was dressed only in her loose robes and covered with a thin, drab blanket. She grasped at some of the pieces of quilt that had began to come apart at the seams “Trowa,” she said and grabbed his arm gently. “You talked to it.” 

Trowa’s words were swallowed up in his throat. 

Catherine’s eyes didn't move away from their fixed position, their frosted color seemed to flood with tears. “Please, be careful my brother.” She reached for his hand, fingers wrapped around his knuckles gently. “You didn’t let it touch you, did you?” 

Trowa shook his head, avoiding the light touch of fingers on the same hand she touched now. Catherine’s hand warmed his chilled skin. He wondered if in her mind she could see it, the miasma that stained his skin. He could see it much more clearly than others. 

‘You will die soon.’ 

“What’s wrong?” Catherine had reached up to smooth out his hair on the back of his head. She could send his change in mood. So pushed it back deep within his mind, pulling out the images of them as children. Even before they hit a rough patch and ended up here. Anything to sway his own aura. 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Trowa smiled. “Get some rest,” he whispered and helped her lay down. 

 

Trowa returned the next morning, a long night of no sleep given the imp’s words weighed heavily on his mind. He found the creature asleep amongst the blankets that littered the bottom of his cage. 

The tufts of blond hair were mashed against his face. His pale skin seemed almost like stone, perfect and smoothed with thousands of years of erosion. Trowa wondered what an imp felt like if you touched it while it was least expectant. He reached between the bars, knowing this thin thing couldn't overpower him. He touched the smooth silky hair, and reached further to brush it away from the hidden forehead. 

A small geometric sigil was presented on the skin just between his brows, and a long thin scar reached from one side to the other right through it. Like someone had started to cut into his head right in the middle. It only stretched a couple inches just above the bridge of his nose.

The old wound opened, and a silvery, blue-green eye stared at him, a horizontal bar pupil widened at the sight of him. 

Trowa fell backwards, and watched as the creature inside the cage awoke and slammed his back into the other side. His arms reaching up to hide his face and comb the hair back over the deformity. 

Trowa was soon out of the tent. A feeling of sick gripped his throat as the image replayed over in his mind. Genuine fear, fear of whatever that was that had been captured and was waiting to be displayed. Forced into giving seemingly vague descriptions of future events. 

He watched at a distance for several days, as patrons came and went through their circus of tents filled with attractions. His own was part of a show, otherwise he was just a hired hand that was no more important than the others. He had no demi-human powers, nor did he have the unique look that brought people from miles away. His body could not change, nor could he single handedly lift a truck. He could not swallow a sword whole or breathe fire, or create an intricate dance like his dear sister that could captivate crowds. 

He and his sister had what he considered more “tragic gifts” than powers. His sister’s sight, although gone, could still form images based on auras. He, on the other hand, could only see trace amounts of energy, including miasma.

So he’d stand watch, opting for the task himself. He’d see people line up around the imp’s tent. They were blindfolded, and lead in. Told that the beauty of the creature could entrance them to unlock his cage to where they’d be devoured. 

Trowa scoffed every time the tale was recited. He scoffed at the tapestry that warned their customers not to remove the blindfold. He must have been more blind than he thought, the imp was just bright, with soft yellow hair and lived-in-a-cave-for-years pale skin. But it was the eyes, Trowa came to, that burned in his memory so much. The seemingly normal oceanic eyes that contrasted against that image of golden rays of light of the rest of his features. 

Trowa groaned, and ignored the glances that caught his moments of irritation. He turned his head, and pushed back the bit of material that hid the inside of the tent, the imp at work was holding the hand of a woman, his other at her cheek. His lips moved but Trowa didn't hear his words. 

Then he saw that thing open up. His hair seemed to blow to the side allowing it to open. The third eye this creature had was what they were really hiding. It was what gave this thing its powers. 

The night wore on. As everyone had sat down for dinner, Trowa was preparing to leave. Unordinarily, Trowa didn't like the laughter or conversation. His sister was a favorite among the women, her aura reading always seemed to cure any ails. Trowa on the other hand clashed on occasion with the others. They were there to work, do what was necessary, and then they could leave, debt free. 

Instinctually he rubbed his sister’s hand. “I’m going to retire early, goodnight.” 

She nodded and let him go. 

But first, he needed to speak with the imp. He entered the tent with a bread roll in his hand. Things that breathe need to eat, if he could bribe it with food, he’d maybe get some answers. 

The imp saw him, and crept silently away from him. 

“Want this?” Trowa put his arm through the bars and stared down the imp. “You do eat don’t you?” 

Startled, the creature remained quiet for a moment, before shaking its head. “I don’t eat what you eat.” 

Trowa cursed inwardly and brought the roll to his mouth and ate it instead. “You said I was going to die soon,” he whispered between bites.

“You will, but I cannot know more unless you let me touch your face.” 

Trowa rolled his eye, and turned away. “I can’t trust you not to curse me.” 

“I… wish to be friends with you and the others,” he said softly. “I’m tied to this cage for the foreseeable future. I want you to be able to trust me. You see me as someone like you, we do not belong in this place do we?” 

Trowa bit his tongue, the long years there had made him cold. The first intrusive thought was to call this thing a well fitted freak, but he swallowed the insult. He was just as fit for this life with a mangled hole in his head. His hand went to his face, and a cool, foreign set of fingers had already pressed against his cheek. 

He jumped back, he had again been drawn in unknowingly. “Stop!” he snapped. 

The creature had pulled from him again, looking away from Trowa in shame. “Forgive me, I’m sorry…” he whispered. He held a hand to his chest as tears fell from his cheeks onto the plush blankets under him. His head bowed lowly and he continued to beg forgiveness. 

Trowa watched, his skin warm from where he had been touched. The space beneath his hair that hid the scarred up eye socket tingled a little. “What did you see?” 

“An accident.. but you will surely die.” 

“Can I stop it?” 

“You will not be able to.” The creature stopped his silent sobs and wiped at his face with the length of his white sleeve. 

“Can you stop it?” Trowa felt his ears ringing, considering the creature as a savior seemed miles away from sanity. 

“I-I may… but I cannot from here.” He crawled around the cage like a cat trying to find a way out of a trap. “This cage keeps me in, but.. I can get out if…”

Trowa shook his head. “I can’t let you out, you could be what kills me.” 

“I cannot deny my nature,” he whispered. “But it is not I who kills you.” 

“What you told me the first night, the ownership.” Trowa grabbed the wooden bars that separated them. His mind went to the others, someone else could have been about to kill him.

The imp reared back some, his head cocking to the side. “What?” 

“You mentioned it the other night, or does the master own you?” Trowa’s patience was growing short. He had no time to die, lest die in this hell of a life before he could get he and Catherine out. 

He shook his head, blond locks falling over his face more as it hid the fake scar across his forehead. “You must find my name, it is inscribed on this cage,” he explained as Trowa began to look over the endless amount of designs and carvings. “I cannot tell you where it is, I do not know the language it is written in.” 

“Then how will I know it? Can you just tell me what it says?” Trowa’s fingers ran over the wood, his eye scanning over every inch. 

“You will know it when you see it,” the imp started to crawl along the length as Trowa searched. “You will be able to command me to protect you, you must give my name.” 

Trowa stopped when he saw the only set of letters that weren’t beheld to some religion, nor was it a carved sigil in a design that seemed more frightening than what it kept inside. “Kw…” He narrowed his eyes on the carving under the right edge of the cage wheel. 

“Quatre,” Trowa whispered. 

When Trowa looked up again, the creature had changed. No longer was his skin just a simple shade of pale flesh, but now he seemed more real. His hair seemed iridescent, his eyes brighter if possible. He now had golden markings that seemed nearly invisible that accentuated his eyes and ran along his hands and arms. His fingers and the nails at the tips seemed longer, more delicate but as well dangerous. 

Quatre was reaching between the bars, without hesitation or reaction to a sudden pain when his hand brushed the wood bars. “I am yours now. I belong to you until your death. I cannot give you immortality, but I can save you from inevitability at least once.” His fingers slid over the length of Trowa’s face. 

Trowa was sure the creature could slice away at his skin like it were butter with the sharp, diamond like nails. But the touch was gentle, pulling him closer to the other. He’d let himself be drawn in, the miasma like soft velvet as it wrapped around him. 

The burning, oceanic eyes had began to soften considerably the closer Trowa got, he could taste the breath against his lips as Quatre stood some on his knees to close the gap between them. “What do you need from me?” 

Trowa stared down at him, in partial inebriation as he tried to think again. “Save me, I cannot die in this hell.” 

Quatre nodded, his hand smoothing over Trowa’s sharp jawline. His thumb tracing over where his right eye would have been. 

Trowa pulled away. The imagined spell was broken. “I… I need to sleep.” He was disoriented as he pulled away from the cage and left the tent.

Quatre watched him leave, but his eyes pulled away for only a second to look upon the lock that secured him physically inside. 

 

Trowa snuck into his tent. He tried to avoid any sound that would give him away to his sister. She had long since retired for the night as it felt like hours had been sucked from his life. Fear had started to crawl over him. His contract with the imp was starting to take more of an impact on him. The consequences would be dire if things didn't go wrong. But what could be worse than death? He imagined damnation, he imagined the death of his sister. Both were now a possibility.

His eyes opened and closed several time before he finally began to fade to sleep. His body relaxed feeling the warmth wrap around him. His eyes opened one last time. He found he was no longer alone in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: The young man finds that ownership can give him so much when it comes to Quatre.


	3. Touch in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa's bedtime visitor is quite desperate for a nice comfortable bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Trowa learns that this "Fortune Teller" is more than he seems.

Trowa’s eye grew two sizes bigger than it had been. He went through the motions of danger, his heart pressed against his chest in attempt to escape. His ears rang as the blood rushed to his head. He couldn't hear anything outside of siren-like sound that wouldn't cease. He wanted to scream, but the sound had drilled itself down into his chest. He was too afraid to scream as the worst case scenarios ran through his brain. 

The starlight blonde tufts of hair shifted, and he could feel the pressure on his dominant arm as the imp laid there against his side, curled up in a neat ball. What woke him wasn’t the cuddled up imp, but the smell of old roses. Something he hadn’t noticed before.

Trowa had to pull himself away from the creature, and then he could figure out his next move. The conversation about saving his life came back to his recent memory. This thing, called Quatre, was now able to get out because he gave him his name back. He moved his body slowly, tucking the pinned shoulder more beneath his body so to slide the rest of his arm from under the other’s head. 

When he glanced back down, the pair of oceanic eyes had been staring up at his. 

“You should sleep,” Quatre suggested. 

“Why are you out?” Trowa asked. His eye still wide, his body still, and his free arm ready to defend himself from whatever this thing could do. 

Quatre stretched out like a cat, his legs extended below him and his arms reached upwards. Allowing Trowa to slip away. “I was tired, and this bed is much more comfortable.” With a couple seconds of movement to sit up, Quatre lunged with inhuman speed to come face to face with his new master. 

Trowa’s delayed gasp and tumbling back delighted the imp until Trowa’s hand hit the edge of the bed and he fell backwards towards the floor.

Quatre caught his wrist, and pulled him back with little effort. “You’re making my job very hard,” he whispered. 

He pushed the human down to the bed and climbed over him. “Sleep,” he whispered.

“I can't like this.” Though Quatre was not at all heavy, knowing that this dangerous thing was sitting on top of him would not allow him to rest easy. 

Quatre’s head cocked to the side. “I will make sure nothing happens to you.” His bright eyes seemed delighted with the opportunity of staying there the whole night. 

“No, it’s uncomfortable.” 

He had to be honest though, it was also unsettling. Trowa didn't want to chance upsetting the other and having him renege on his side of the deal. 

Quatre’s right shoulder lifted as he glanced down at the bed below them. His eyes were shadowed under thick blonde lashes as his attention fell back on Trowa. “I can make it comfortable for you.” 

His breath hitched and voice grew thin. “You need to go back to your cage, if someone sees you ou-“ Trowa stopped, as Quatre disappeared with a pop of pressure. He sat up quickly and looked to find the other if he was hiding. The slightly illuminated imp was gone from the tent, and Trowa breathed a sigh of relief. He could feel the heat that Quatre left behind on his chest, and it rose to his face and into his brain. He hadn't had those kind of feelings in years. 

 

In the morning, Trowa finally found the frantic ‘what if’ that he had left behind thanks to lurid, unfamiliar thoughts. He knew he should have checked the cage for the imp before falling asleep in a heap of twisted nerves. 

He found the cage still occupied. Only now the imp had not given him a soft, ethereal look. His face was one of irritation, and the oceanic eyes seemed to have darkened like a violent storm had overtaken the sea.

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself say. 

A delighted smile came to Quatre’s face, and his shoulders sank as the tension melted off of him. “It has been a long time since I’ve been commanded like that,” he whispered.

Trowa came closer, grabbing the edge of the cage gently with his hand. “I didn’t know that would do that, I didn't want to let anyone know you got out.” Thinking more of his own head than anyone else’s. 

Quatre glanced at Trowa’s hand and then his face. “I see.” His own hand reached up and covered Trowa’s fingers. “Can I come to you this night?” he asked. 

Trowa hesitated, and he had to pull his hand away, the cool feel still stuck to his fingers as he stared down the imp. 

“Hey Trowa!” 

He was dragged out of his concentration by the familiar voice growing closer to the tent. He nodded to Quatre and shuffled out to catch the other before he came in. 

 

The night came much sooner than Trowa had been prepared for. No exhaustion had found its way to his body as his nerves had lit his mind afire. He knew the imp would come again; he’d given Quatre permission. There was only so much he’d imagine before his throat would run dry and he’d find himself contemplating revoking the invitation.

When Quatre came this night Trowa could feel the miasma. The tent he slept in was small enough to concentrate the smell and feel of it. Though dark in color, Trowa could see the faint gold shimmer. He saw it before Quatre had materialized. 

The imp had crawled up the edge of the bed and like a cat he made residence up against Trowa’s side. 

Trowa had kept his eye shut, trying to regulate his breathing. Nothing would happen if he kept his wits about him. He’d not be led into that temptation in the form of blue-green eyes and the smell of old roses. 

Quatre had shifted against him some, and burrowed into his side more. His legs twisted around his own, pulling him even closer. 

His breath hitched too much as he tried to pretend to sleep; his body had betrayed him already. 

“Don’t open your eye,” Quatre playfully whispered and Trowa could feel the cool fingers pull his face to the side some. 

Trowa could feel the pull of the muscle in his good eye as it opened. The words had been tempting enough for him to disobey them. He had found Quatre’s nose barely touching his own, and his breath teasing against his lips. 

He could count each eyelash, golden and perfectly long that brushed against the almost shimmery pale cheeks. Had this been a dream, Trowa would have believed an angel had come to lay with him.

There was no way in heaven or hell that this creature was malevolent. 

That smell drowned out his thoughts and forced his lips to part just slightly for the other to take his first real kiss. Quatre’s nose just barely grazed past his as it deepened more. 

A hand slid along his throat, but no thoughts of fear or panic broke the trance he was in. Even in the dark, that miasma seemed to make everything shine.

Their lips parted, and Trowa’s eye rested on the softened features of the fortune teller that sat across his stomach. There were more markings than before, ones that had once been hidden away under long thin sleeves of white garments.

He reached to one over the paler shoulder, and fingered it just gently enough to make Quatre recoil sheepishly. 

Trowa felt the unfamiliar tug of a genuine smile reach across his face. He didn’t let the other get far from his desire to touch again. The same hand found another marking that trailed a line up the imp’s neck; fingertips roaming into the line of soft blonde hair. 

Quatre’s face pressed into the palm of his hand, then took it with his own to keep it close to his cheek for as long as possible. A sadness seemed present there for only a moment from what Trowa could see. 

“Will I…”

The motion of Quatre’s eyes silenced him; unnatural and bright, they seemed to glisten even more. “Shhh,” he ushered. 

Trowa nodded, swayed by the softened look in the other’s eyes. 

Quatre lowered himself again and kissed Trowa again. His chapped lips couldn't compare to the softness that Quatre’s mouth possessed. 

The pleasant cool air hit Trowa’s chest as his night shirt was slowly unbuttoned. The other’s fingers danced across his skin as they moved further down, bringing upon another smile to his ever attended mouth. This only broke the kiss for a moment, a moment long enough for Quatre to move to another place for his lips to explore. 

Trowa groaned, turning his head to allow clearance to the other. He couldn't feel his extremities, but from his view they were still there, unmoving and unwilling. He struggled against his invisible bindings, knowing that his may have been the work of whatever magic this creature had used on him. 

Teeth hit flesh and the spell was broken over his hands, the miasma had lifted from his head. Trowa only took two seconds of muscle movement before he pushed the imp down into his bed, pinned and shocked. 

The image under him was a lithe demon, this was no regular imp in his bed. He’d finally seen the extent of this creature’s beauty. And it equally scared and enchanted him. 

A pair of thick ram-like horns had curved around his ears, starting at his temples and ending just before they pierced the pillow under him. 

There was a look of fear in Quatre’s eyes, the shock had brought back that third, monstrous eye. 

Trowa let go of one wrist to test the texture of the horn, make sure he wasn’t caught in another hallucination. His finger felt the cool edge of the bone’s curve. His nail clicking softly with each ridge. 

This ministration elicited a moan from the demon under him, and a flutter of eyelashes. The third eye now closed and melded back with the rest of his skin. Quatre’s free hand didn't move, and even as Trowa pulled his fingers away, he still had the look of longing. 

“You can have me,” Quatre whispered. Both hands had been freed and making their way up and down Trowa’s chest. His nails only millimeters from making long cuts along his abdomen as they hooked the hem of his sleeping pants. 

Trowa shuddered, there was still part of his brain that told him “no” even as he straightened up and tossed his shirt to the side. His sister’s warning was now a faded memory as he untied the drawstring of his pants. 

He’d been touched by this creature too many times to know he’d never be saved from the sins he was ready to commit. Even if it was a mix of miasma, long years hiding who he was, and pent up frustration from the night before. He was ready. 

Trowa had shed his clothes, and took no notice or care to how his bed companion lost his. His life had been filled with enough dark magic, it was time to give into it. 

Quatre pulled him down to him, arms secure around his neck as another kiss followed the brief moment of contemplation.

Trowa could feel the press of the demon’s cock against his. The gentle friction against his own brought deeper kisses. A thin tongue wrapped partly around his, and Trowa couldn't help but feel the first bit of precum moisten from one of them. 

Fingers went to search to see who had been eager and Trowa could feel the wetness spread around the tip of his with a warm finger. The hand that touched him so gently had found that near perfect stroke. His fingers tightening around the base and became as soft as silk around the tip, teasing along the hard ridge of his head. 

Trowa tried to fixate himself on moving his mouth to the same motions as the other, but found the touches below too distracting. 

Quatre, as if knowing this, focused his honey mouth elsewhere along Trowa’s jaw and then to his neck. 

With shaking knees Trowa pulled away some, and kissed the demon once more before he tore his aching cock from Quatre’s reaching fingers. He didn't give the other much time to react before his mouth captured the skin just over his abdomen, then to the long shaft between the demon’s legs. 

Quatre had reached down to grab him but Trowa moved his head just a bit and took him into his mouth. The demon responded with a tiny whimper and threw his hands over his reddening face. 

Trowa had never seen a creature cover it’s face in flushed ecstasy like this one had and he enjoyed it infinitely. He moved his mouth further down the length, tasting every bit of skin. Something he’d only imagined once in the day since Quatre first appeared in his bed. His fingers traced along the pale thighs, pushing them further apart. His head bobbed along the other’s tip, then slipped down the entire length. Trowa moved his head back up and let his teeth graze against the underside until he reached the base and moved back up. 

Quatre had grabbed his head with one hand and urged him back up. He gave no hesitation as he attacked Trowa’s mouth with feverish intent to taste.

Trowa had taken the demon’s cock in hand, and pumped it with his rough fingers. He didn't want to lose this high just yet and falling under the submissive spell of the miasma would put him at the will of this coy demon. 

Quatre pulled away from his lips, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth. He twisted his slender yet lithe body to the side until he was on his front. There were sigils that ran down the length of his spine. Just as gold and illuminated as the rest of him. His hips rose some and his long hand ran over the length of his back to offer himself to Trowa. 

Trowa could feel the steam coming off his skin seeing the soft entrance so inviting him inside. His fingers graced over Quatre’s ass as he moved closer to press a finger against it. Even without any kind of lubrication his finger went in with ease. As desperate as he was to ease the pressure between his legs. He was fated to die, and if the demon failed, he wanted no avenue undiscovered.

He moved Quatre’s hips up more, and bent forward to have a taste. His tongue dove against the willing entrance, and he had to grasp the demon’s hips to keep him from evading further. 

A quick glance at Quatre told Trowa everything he needed to know about his level of enjoyment. The blonde demon had buried his face in the bulk of Trowa’s pillow, his shoulder shook as he tried not to buck his hips too much against his mouth. 

“I want…” Quatre panted out, his voice ached and became thin. “Please.” 

Trowa pulled away, and moved to sit on the back of his ankles. He pulled Quatre to him and edged himself past the threshold of his entrance. With a roll of his hips the tip of his cock was inside the demon. The warmth of his insides was beyond what he expected. If the air around him was drenched with his miasma, Quatre’s insides had turned Trowa into his willing lover until his death. He only wanted to dive in deeper, but when he got to the base of his cock, he had to pull out just enough to push back in. 

Quatre’s body sunk into the bed, letting Trowa guide his hips. He was malleable in the human’s hands and Quatre seemed to love it. His face buried in Trowa’s pillow with a dazed smile as he became one with him. 

Trowa panted, his head dizzy with the growing pressure ready to be spent inside of the demon. So he pulled him up into his lap, not chancing separating from his demon. He pulled the pillow from Quatre’s hands so he could kiss him again. He let it fall to the bed and then onto the floor. He didn't care about the sounds of skin softly slapping against each other. Or the creak of the ancient bed under them.

Quatre was guided up and down his shaft, mouth too busy to moan. His back arched with each thrust until Quatre could keep the rhythm on his own. Leaving Trowa a free hand to stroke between his legs. The little bit of touch was the last ingredient Quatre needed before his seed seeped out of his tip. 

Trowa’s fingers ran along the tip, playing delicately with the sticky mess. His right arm wrapped tightly around Quatre’s waist as he pulled his lips away to kiss along the length of his neck and into the nook above his shoulder. 

His come spilled deep within the demon, and it almost seemed cold against the heat inside the infernal creature. Nothing could compare to that warmth again. Trowa could never let this go, ready to die instead of ever finding another that would compare.

With stiff muscles, Trowa moved to lay himself and the demon down into the bed. There was enough of a mess to be embarrassed about, but Trowa pushed those worries to later. His nerves buzzed with restlessness, but his muscles made no move to escape the small space he shared with Quatre.

 

Catherine gently grasped the curtain under her fingers, she could rip this entire tent down around the two in bed and reveal her brother’s sin. Her heart ached sensing the demon’s aura so close and so warmly intimate with her brother’s. She hoped for anyone but that thing. 

She let it go, and would save him from the damnation the demon would drag him down into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Fate has it's ways.


	4. Battle Royale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine is hesitant to allow her brother to continue his relationship, and even a certain master is bound to see it end. The show begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Given his name, Quatre tests Trowa's boundaries.

Quatre stared through the rails of the cage, his brilliant turquoise eyes watching the passing of bodies as they prepared for the night’s show.

There was a sensation he felt, dread. The feeling wasn’t uncommon, he’d experienced it before. Unlike humans, he didn’t have a fight or flight response. He had pure fight in him. The things he saw before; the images that would flash through the other’s minds made him want to break out of the cage and rely on those baser instincts. Even if he wasn’t a fighting kind of demon.

He felt weakened though. The energy he expelled the night before, albeit a worthy use, would make his task that much harder.

He could fail, of course. The option was there, and he’d no longer be tied to the human. Worse things could happen, like a long life of agony because his failure.

The desire to fail wasn’t there, even now when he could touch the bars of his cage without pain. Even if he could leave the cage in the night. 

He grew especially fond of this human. Originally it was to be a source of food, maybe a sucker to allow him to be freed from that small human shell cast upon him by his residence in this plane. With human-like eyes, and a malevolent, yet curious brain, Quatre had seen in Trowa someone who needed a way out just like he had. Someone who called to that desire. 

The rest of the others there were useless to him. Some even saw him for what he really was even before Trowa released his name. The young Chinese man, he’d be an obstacle and half to get around. He was probably just as old if not older than he. Definitely older than the thing they had hidden away. But it was locked in chains. It was powerful, and could be violent. It was no more than a monster.

“You look deep in thought, demon.”

Quatre turned his gaze to the much older man that purchased him. His infernal features shifting back to the softened human look.

“Do cease the facade, I know you have someone here assisting you.” The man circled around the cage. “I don’t anticipate you’d help me figure out whom, but I have a feeling we’ll find out soon.”

Quatre stared beyond the bars, keeping his eyes from gracing over the older man that looked at him adoringly. Like one with a trinket kept behind glass. He was this man’s prize. 

“I actually imagined you’d have killed your help by now and leave. They did tell me you were a bleeding heart when I bought you,” the man teased, quietly stepping away, his long blue coat behind him. His light brown hair slicked to the back of his head didn’t move when he glanced back at Quatre. Deep blue eyes stared menacingly, yet delightfully back at him. “Do not get carried away with tonight’s show. Things may have changed and you may have been touched by someone else. But you’re still mine.”

Yes, that was the dread he felt. 

 

Catherine constantly remembered the past, there was not a waking moment that she ever let go. She was desperately in need of a voice of decision. Though she looked out for the welfare of her brother, she also drove him into the life he lead today. She got them stuck there, in that damnable place. He worked from the first rays of light to the late hours of the night just to pay their debt. A debt she could only add change to. Her lack of vision wasn’t to blame, but her guilt. 

She could spend the rest of eternity there, sell herself in order to give her little brother a chance at freedom. Sitting alone in her tent, as she had now. 

“My dear?” 

Catherine’s head lifted and she felt the cool fingers on her cheek, she knew whose fingers they belonged. “Master Treize.” 

“You say my name with such tragedy,” he replied. 

She could never see his aura, but she could feel the warmth coming off his tone, only drenched with charismatic pity. “I’m not feeling well, sir.” 

“What ever is the matter, my sight-less dove.” 

Catherine felt the warmth run up into her cheeks as he stroked them. “I’m conflicted, and I’m unsure what path to take.”

“Your brother?” Treize asked, his tone remained unchanged except a slightly knowing pitch at the end. 

She pulled her face away and hung her head between her shoulders. “I want to protect him, but I’ve put him in the danger he faces now.” 

“He is young, impetuous still. He needs your guidance,” Treize whispered, and she could feel the gentle touch of his fingers through the curls of her hair. “This may be my opinion, but you should trust your first intuition.” 

She could feel the manipulation in his words, but they infected her mind. Trowa was making a mistake that could cost them both their lives in this place. 

“I’d hate for that boy to further increase your debt because he was breaking the rules…” Treize’s voice grew distant, but that feeling he left behind on her skin made her shiver. 

“Yes, Master Trieze,” she whispered. 

 

The blare of music startled him. His performance had begun. Limited to only an inch or so of movement, Trowa was strapped to a spinning wheel. Left to watch the anonymous faces that swirled around as he turned. Their hungry eyes waiting for what they had in store for them. His wrists and ankles had been shackled tightly. Locks on his wrists kept him from escaping with little room if any to slip out. The strap around his waist kept him from twisting his hips had his sister’s aim been straight on. They’d done this at least a hundred times, his trust in her was the same trust he had in himself. 

But the demon’s words, the sight he had seen but remained unspoken unnerved Trowa. This was probably the least dangerous thing he’d do in his career at the show. Then there was dealing with the stuff outside the show. The monstrous animals and people that populated it. He could think of a thousand scenarios involving the board and being left there to whatever fate had in store for him. Had it broken off, he had about five hundred pounds on his back crushing him against the sandy turf beneath. Cathy could miss and hit him again, and this time it could very well kill him. A lion could get out and tear his leg off, the possibilities were endless tonight. He just had to trust the demon. 

He laughed at the audacity, well inwardly laughed. Outside he was a shell of stoicism. Ready for whatever Cathy threw at him. Literally. 

He went to see Quatre before the show, just to see the other’s face again. The demon was pensive, sitting in the corner of his small cage. He had barely noticed Trowa until he touched the bars. 

There was fear in the demon’s eyes, seemingly sucking the light of them the closer they got to curtains. 

Trowa’s heart beat to the rhythm of the music. The volume vibrated against the wood at his back. It drowned out the murmur of the crowds. 

Thunk! 

It landed on the side of his wounded eye, just under his elbow. He only found it by the vibration and then sliding his elbow along the metal just enough. He kept his focus on her, he knew the trick of the act. By putting some weight on one side, he could either slow down or speed up the rotation. So if she came especially close, he could avoid injury, or even death. Cathy even had her own failsafe, a low ticking sound, much too quiet to be heard. But Cathy knew how long it took between the four ticks, and what position Trowa would be in.

He saw her dance, beautiful, alluring and deadly. 

She always wanted to be a ballerina. She had the poise and amazing balance. She was just missing the ability to see and the confidence to go forward. 

Another thunk in the wood. This time it barely nipped his ear. The crowd had a number of shrieks and gasps before erupting into applause. 

Cathy paused, and for a moment Trowa could see her concentrate before her body fell back into the sway of music. Trowa counted the ticks he could feel against his body. She was already in synch with the music, every beat of her movement matched up with his rotation. 

She threw the next dagger. 

A second too soon. 

It hit the wood with a sick thunk, near his inner thigh.

Another roar of applause and screams for her demonstration of frightening skill. 

Trowa was now afraid. 

Cathy was getting ahead of herself. 

The memories of last night filled his brain suddenly, the bit of guilt for lying to her created the fear in his mind she was upset with him. Did she know about him and Quatre?

Cathy was now straining to remain relaxed despite the noticeable demeanor change. 

He wondered if he had avoided the demon, would this fate still happen? He slighted his sister, and now could die because of it. 

She let her hands drop, but she kept hold of the blades. The music changed into something slow and dramatic. After a moment it edged upwards to grow the anticipation for the final throws. She’d be throwing more than one now. Her shoulders heaved. Her hair hung down over her face as she stared with those blank, greyed eyes. She was not herself again, but a shell of what was left. 

She threw, screaming.

The crowd was now standing, afraid but still anxious to see a calamity first hand. 

The blade sunk deep near his face, too close to his good eye that traces of his hair could be seen falling. 

Another wave of applause. 

She swayed as if possessed by something, her body twisting around before unleashing another two blades. The twin blades sunk deeply on each side of his waist. He was finding it much harder to keep his composure now. He wanted to yell at her to snap out of it, but that would bring swift and severe punishment. He had to trust her to hold back. 

He couldn’t hear his heart over the sound of the crowd’s excited banter and applause. They were nothing but wolves ready for blood. 

His eyes scanned and searched the tent. But the blinding lights that flooded down over them obscured anything beyond their rays. 

Trowa felt the edging anxiety in those last two daggers. 

Cathy was again dancing, one in each hand as she swayed with the music like a doll on strings. Her elbows bent awkwardly as she did the final dance. 

She let the next-to-last dagger fly across the distance between them, and just as his head rotated downward it hit just above his crown. More hair danced away as he circled back upwards. 

The music picked up, but Cathy’s body did not move to it’s beat. She held the last blade in her hand. Though she had no sight, she faced it with disdain. She began to twirl it back and forth between both hands, tossing it up into the air like it was nothing. 

Trowa watched with a cautious gaze, but at this point the spinning had already taken affect of his senses. 

Another dagger flew before he could concentrate long enough to gauge whether or not he needed to adjust himself. He closed his eye, waiting for the pain to come. 

The dagger never made contact with him nor the wood behind him.

His eye opened. The rotation had stopped and he was just off center and upright again. The wood over his head creaked some, but his bad eye could not see what stood over him. The smell was there, the scent of old roses. What he could see was the hand that had reached down to stop the blade that had been a breath away from opening up his neck. Soft and pale, with long thin iridescent nails that stood sharp. The dagger was crushed under the joints of the hand, snapped in several sections and fallen to the ground. 

Cathy was frozen for several seconds. 

The only sound was the whirring of music around them. 

The crowd had fallen silent, watching with anticipation what would happen next.

Several pairs of eyes watched, ready to act at a moment’s notice. 

Cathy collapsed into the thin layer sand under her feet. 

“Cathy!” Trowa called out. 

The master stepped out towards the center lights, “I see, this is your real form then.” 

Trowa finally looked up. Quatre’s features had changed yet again. Much like the night before a pair of curved horns wrapped around the sides of his head. But more of his body had been reflected a monster. His face was much more sharp in areas that once had been soft. His eyes were much larger and more angled. The third one fully opened and staring dangerously in the other’s direction. He was crouched atop the wheel much like a cat ready to attack any that came close. Finally, a pair of pale marble colored wings spread from his back. 

“Don’t hurt Cathy, she’s all that I have!” Trowa blurted. 

Quatre’s head cocked to the side, his neck curved some as he looked down at Trowa with one eye. “Very well.” 

“Those still obedient to my command, capture the demon and we’ll see about a reward,” Treize spoke. “Ladies and Gentlemen, those brave to watch the encore of this night’s show, are allowed to remain. But your lives are in your hands now.” 

 

A pair of hungry eyes curved with glee, and he stepped out into the light. Standing tall in a pair of cowboy boots and tattered jeans, a young man with a long braid stopped at Cathy’s side. “Jeeze Trowa, you’ll have to fill me in after. I bet this is gonna be one helluva story.” He bent over and scooped up Cathy and set her down in another pair of arms. He came back around, flexing heavily tattooed arms and chest as he came closer to the wheel. 

“Duo, don’t do this…” Trowa could hear the clicking above him, the unnatural purr of something much more dangerous. He could only hold Quatre back so much. “Quatre just leave, run while you can.” 

“You are still in danger,” Quatre whispered in a low tone. 

“I’ll try not to kill ya Trowa, but no promises.” Duo was suddenly applauded. Always a crowd-pleaser he bowed and saluted to the fans around them. 

And then a long thick board flew past him, towards the demon crouching over Trowa’s head. The unmistakable red color of the once bench seat that made up the lowest part of the stands smashed into the corner of the wheel, connecting with the demon just barely before he grabbed it and tossed it to the side into the frantic crowds. The wheel snapped from behind, and teetered backwards and landed. 

Duo was heard cursing. “DAMNIT MAN, CAN’T YOU AT LEAST WAIT FOR MY MOMENT TO END?!” 

“No.” 

Trowa could only see dust swirling above him. He pulled at the restraints, but to no avail.

 

Quatre landed just above him, feet planted on both sides of his waist. 

Now there were two of these men against him. Both seemingly mortal, both with their own bags of tricks.

The other surfaced out of the shadows, carrying another too-large wooden seat over one shoulder. Wearing a faded and old green tank and thick, black performer’s tights.

Quatre had seen them in passing, the one with the tattoos even tried talking to him at one point in the past couple days. The other had his own secrets, and would be hard to get past with strength to his own. 

Duo had reached back to his braid, and began to stroke along the length affectionately. “We work together right, and we both get the bonus?” Duo asked from over his shoulder to the waiting master. With the affirmation, Duo began to swing the braid in a circular motion. 

Quatre tried to read them as they stepped closer. The space between closing quickly. He had to move away from Trowa to keep him out of harms way, but also avoid re-capture. He was not going to take the chance to free him and drop his guard.

Before he could flinch, the stronger one launched the large piece of wood at him.   
Instinctually he dashed the opposite direction. 

He knew he chose wrong when the sound of metal hit his ears. Soon a vice like grip had surrounded him, and cut at his skin. 

“Haha, that was easy!” Duo held onto his braid with two hands as it was stretched and malformed into a chain of iron. One of his tattoos had disappeared. The fresh skin burned red. 

Quatre pulled but the chains around him only became tighter with a twist of Duo’s wrist. 

“Heero, get your ass in there and break those wings.” 

Heero only glared in response, “I’m trusting you to hold onto him, or I’ll break you.” 

Duo laughed nervously. “Iron can’t break to that thing.” 

Quatre disliked iron, though it did not break easily to his strength, it was also much to heavy for his body to carry. He sank to his knees and his shoulder hit the sand. He watched Heero inch closer, walking warily towards him. Then his eyes fell on Duo, and a smile crept up his lips. 

 

Duo turned pale, and he began to sway. “Wha.. what the…” He waved his hands in front of his face as his eyes turned black.

His hands went slack and the iron chains loosened around the demon. 

Heero froze, his eyes narrowing on the demon. “What?!” 

“The chain is part of his body, that’s all I needed.” Quatre watched the chain disappear and stood again. 

Duo cursed loudly from behind Heero, trying to clear whatever vision Quatre showed him. It faded quickly once the connection ended. “Don’t let him touch you, he shows you shit.” 

Heero nodded and rushed Quatre. 

“Damnit I told you no!” Duo yelled after him.

Quatre smiled darkly. “I’ll kill everyone who tries to stop me.” 

“Fine by me.” Heero muttered and bent low to scoop up a handful of the layer of sand, digging his finger past the wood flooring and into the ground with a powerful swoop. He swung his arm violently and launched the sand, wood and rock at Quatre. 

He shielded with his thin wing, but even the sand cut through like it was needles. The rocks broke through a bone and the wood cut in harder spots where the sand failed. The small objects only became dangerous projectiles in Heero’s hands, and Quatre could only stare at the blood that drained down his poor wings. 

“Quatre just run! You’re free!” 

Quatre felt that sickening absence suddenly. As lackluster as the moment was, he was in fact freed by Trowa’s relinquishment. 

But it also meant he could do whatever he wanted, he could kill them all. No. There was only one he wanted dearly to kill. The rest were just dogs to him. 

“He’s thinking about running,” Duo warned. 

Quatre glared. “I wont run,” he whispered. He had to get his revenge first.

Heero backed up when the demon spread it’s wings and launched to the air. “Duo!” 

“See how much you can affect me this way!” Duo grabbed his throat tightly and the tattoo there, a string of tribal like flames in red faded off. From out of his mouth, eyes and nose a swirl of flame and wind shot towards Quatre.

“It’s just magic!” Quatre shot towards the tent pole and clutched onto it with hands and feet. Another burst of flame shot towards him. With the wounded wing he was able to protect himself, even at the expense that he’d have to rip it off later. 

Duo fell back, coughing hard. “Damn I hate that one,” he said in a choking raspy voice. His face burned away, but started to grow back slowly. 

Quatre glared silently, he had to do what he could to push them back so he could get to the source. His energy was at it’s limit. 

But this gave Heero the advantage of finding something new to throw at the other. A long steel bar from the barrier that kept the audience in their section had been wrenched off, broken and collected in the short time Duo had been holding the other back. 

The first one shot towards him and sliced through Quatre’s other wing. Nearly knocking him down. With a small whimper of pain, Quatre shot from the pole, snapping it in half with the force alone. He dove towards Heero, dodging another rod. The third was launched and Quatre caught it and sent it right back. 

Heero didn’t move as it passed right over his shoulder. His eyes still on Quatre who dove with fingers ready to slice him apart. 

‘NO’

Snatched from the air, Quatre was now drowning in a bubble of water. It grasped at him, willing to drown him as it kept him from the edges. The pressure was crushing him as he tried to expel as much water as he could to keep from being suffocated. He stared wildly at Heero who watched him. 

“‘Bout time,” Duo laughed. “I gotta get that girl to do some tricks for me.” 

Quatre’s eyes lulled as his body was starting to become too heavy to function. His mind was ablaze. 

‘I know your wishes. We are alike, you and I.’

‘I just want to be free, and if I can free the others…’ Quatre replied to the soft, cool and ancient voice.   
‘Do not harm them,’ she said. ‘I can free you, but do not harm them.’

‘Very well,’ Quatre’s eyes opened and his arm shot out. The tip of his nail graced the edge of the bubble, popping it. He set his feet down lightly on the soggy wooden floor. “My fight is not with you humans.” 

“You think we’re going to let you pass?” Duo asked. 

“Yes,” Quatre moved with a sudden pop. It was an exhaustive ability but he didn’t need much to kill the master. He was a mortal.

Quatre rushed Treize. The other remained seated, smiling at him. 

Quatre was no idiot, he stopped to avoid a too obvious trap.

A blade came down before him.

Another man.

“Wuuufei!” Duo cheered.

Wufei had long black hair tied back in a thin braid that was wrapped around his neck. He held his sword down between Treize and Quatre. “You will go no further demon.” 

“A god?” Quatre asked. 

“Demi!” Duo corrected. 

Wufei glared in irritation, but moved his body and held his sword pointing at the other. “You will return to your cage, or you will be killed.” 

Quatre remembered him, standing in the back as he was sold to Treize, a demi-god bodyguard for a mortal. He scoffed. “Stand down, I will end all suffering thanks to this man.” 

Wufei readied an attack, but Quatre swung his arms and the sharp, diamond like nails battled against the swift movements of the sword master. 

“Let me kill him! And you’ll have your freedom!” Quatre snapped. 

“I cannot let you do that!” Wufei growled. 

Quatre bounded backwards and barely dodged the pipe swung at his back before lifting away from the ground. 

“Duo, back!” Wufei ordered. 

“Shit! Yeah!” Duo reached behind his back and his fingers sunk into the angel wings tattoos, spilling deep red blood down his back. Unlike Quatre, Duo had wings of black, with grey and brown feathers that ripped themselves from his shoulders down to his fingertips. 

Quatre cursed again, the only advantage he had now as his hands being free. The biggest disadvantage on the other hand, was his mangled wings made it harder to fly. He turned in air just in time for the human to grapple around his waist and drag him down to slam into the ground. 

 

Trowa had been working his hands out. Only successfully pulling one out by bloodying his own wrists and hands. The absence of a key meant wounding himself and risking death. Once both wrists were freed, he unbelted the section around his waist and got to work trying to unlatch his ankles. His fingers were wet with blood. He’d already nicked himself on one blade, forgetting it was there when he moved too quickly.

Ankles free, he crawled up through the rubble of the tent. Already half of it was down. The crowds had scattered save a few bodies that were not moving enough to be considered alive. 

Trowa saw the two bodies hit the ground. Only one stood again, and before he could blink, it rushed up on the beat of it’s wings and disappeared into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: Where did the demon go?


	5. The First Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa wakes from a dream, but is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: When the demon saves Trowa, an all out brawl ensues as we meet the others.

Cathy didn’t mean to hurt him.

She didn’t mean to get angry. To get lost in her rage and resentment. She was just overwhelmed, she just wanted to be happy with him. When he listened to her, when he confided in her. It made her happy. 

That thing, like her, it had claws. It had rage in a form beyond human. She resented it for it’s beauty, and the empathy it had for Trowa. For him alone. 

It was like the light had been taken from her when she lost control. Her bones became sharp, her thoughts like broken glass against her willpower. She was so hungry. 

The first time this happened, it was because of him. He appeared and things had to change. It wasn’t just the two of them, it was the four of them now. She had to share her love and she didn’t want that. She had to share her nights and mornings, and her thoughts and fears. 

She became feverish, sick, and suddenly something small, yet malevolent came to her. It grew like a weed in her head. It grew off her jealousy, feeding off of it like sunlight on a scalding day. It told her the truth, her blindness made her imperfect, and that her little brother’s sight, made him better than her. Not all babies were born blind. 

It was all his fault, it was always his fault that she became like this. 

She didnt want him to be born. 

And then it was just the two of them. They went through the motions of adoption, foster, orphanages, and finally a church. 

It was all his fault, he just had to talk. It was easy to talk. 

No supper meant she went to bed hungry. She was so hungry. She had a hunger that went unquenched that blossomed up into her stomach in her mouth. 

It was his fault. 

It was an accident with a knife, is what he told people. It’s what he wanted to believe. It’s what he told himself.

She had crawled over him, and he let her take it. 

She was so hungry. 

A pair of arms wrapped around him. A woman with honey brown eyes, and soft hair held him in her arms. A young man tugged Cathy’s hand as they walked away from a blinding heat and the sounds of fire. 

“BLOOM!” Cathy screamed. “My last name is BLOOM! I don’t care about him, he’s not my brother!” 

 

Trowa woke in a flash of sweat and congestion. He felt over his torso and ripped the blanket off of him.

He hissed as he slowly made his way out of the hot bed. Cathy was still asleep, she’d been sleeping on and off for the last two weeks since that chaotic night. Quatre never returned. Though his heart ached some at the idea, he knew it was for the best.

He let him go, that’s all there was to it.

The others went on like nothing had changed, they were still in the same position as before. No one received any kind of bonus to their debt, so all the fighting and destruction only increased the amount they had to make. 

The world felt heavy around him. No one was around as he stumbled out of his tent. The lights were dimmed or extinguished. The full moon illuminated the bit of fog that laid low over the ground. He felt the chill on his skin from the wet early morning. He needed to drink something, his throat sore from sickness.

He hadn't had that dream in a long time. It always unsettled him. He stopped bringing it up to Cathy. In the beginning when he brought up the past, she would dissolve into depression. She always said she loved him, that they only had each other. Parts of him didn’t trust her. The condition, at least that’s what he called it, was only triggered by events around him. The second time because of his disobedience and the punishment he debatably deserved. 

So she may have loved him as one would love a brother, but her love was desperate, tried and wrought with anxiety.

The doctor examined his wounds and wrapped his wrists and assured him he was going to live. She had tried to assure him Cathy would pull through. But the intrusive thought of willing her to fade away still came. He hated to see her constantly suffer for him, but she was trapped so far deep in the spider’s web that Trowa almost believed she felt more at home there in the show than anywhere else. 

“Trowa?” The bell like voice called out.

 

Trowa woke again, and pain shot through his body. He could barely move, stuck to the bed with a wrapped chest and healing wrists made everything hard. His punishment for what happened had been clearly displayed on his back. Had it been worse than possible damnation, or death? Close enough, at least in his opinion. 

He glanced down, and in the blindspot of his vision he could see the edge of something sitting next to him Turning his head some he found Quatre there at the edge of his bed. 

“Quatre?” Trowa tried to reach, but the tug at his skin made him hiss. 

Quatre turned his head, and gave him a sad smile. “I’m so sorry.” 

Trowa shook his head, moaning out some. 

“I cannot stay here with you,” Quatre had reached up to caress the edge of his jawline. “I know that you would stay in this hell with me if I were here.” 

Trowa felt his eyes flood. “No, take me with you.” 

Quatre shook his head. “Where I exist is no place for you.” His eyes softened. “I am so sorry, but I must hurt you.” 

Trowa didn’t care about the pain, he grasped Quatre’s arm. 

Quatre’s face dropped suddenly, and he grasped Trowa’s face. His grip could easily break his skull, refused to let him go. “I won’t let you suffer this moment, I promise.”

Trowa soon only saw the lights of day, glittering dust spiraling around an open field. He saw the little girl running happily around a family with a baby boy tucked between them as they ate lunch. He’d never seen anything so bright in his life. 

“Quatre?” He called out. 

“I will give you a gift, before I go.” 

“Don’t leave me behind,” Trowa called out, the scene around him blurred. 

“You cannot live in this world forever Trowa, and thus, cannot stay because of me.” 

Trowa cried out as a pain shot through his skull from his eye, and blood poured down the side of his face and onto the scene around him. 

He could only see Cathy, sitting on top of him with her dagger, pushing it further into his skull.

“What… what are you doing?!” 

“I know what your sister did to you,” he whispered. “I’m so very sorry.” 

“Please… Quatre, I’ll be… g-good.” Trowa was laying in the grass, holding his head. His eye shut tightly. 

Warm arms wrapped around his neck, and the pain soon faded off to nothing. 

He panted hard, the pain in his hands, along his wrists, in his back and along his legs was now gone.  


Trowa opened his eye once again, and out of natural reaction, both eyes were now open. 

Quatre laid curled up in his side, legs entwined in his. There was blood running down like tears from his right eye. His left opened some and he smiled. “I think it fits you much better.” 

Trowa reached up to touch the lid, feeling the bit of swelling and dull pain. He had a second eye once again. “Why?” 

Quatre reached up and traced his chin with a smile. “There will always be a part of me with you, and maybe one day I’ll be with you again.” 

Trowa felt like he was on the verge of waking, his brain churned and he could again feel the sheets and pillow beneath him. With the limited seconds before his consciousness took over, he laid his head back down, and kissed the demon gently one last time. 

When Trowa opened his eyes, he could see so much more than before. Colors he never imagined danced along the dawn’s light. 

“I’ll find you,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shall we begin the next story? 
> 
>  
> 
> The rift between them began years ago. A man cursed by his greed and disloyalty, and the man destroyed by love who willingly became a slave.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated and helps feed these demons!


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